Come. Come see.

I watched a film documentary on Channel 4 a few weeks ago: about people who chose to end their lives by jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. Unfortunately, it's apparently a frequent occurrence. In 2004, 24 people fell to their deaths. As I read through the names of the 24 in the end credits, I noticed that most were men.

Of the film, one person sticks in my mind: a man in a leather jacket, his long dark hair blowing in the wind, smoking a cigarette, walking up and down the bridge. If I'd been on that bridge same time as him, what would I have said to him? How would I have sold life to him?


I was at the Royal London hospital a short while back and there was this man who started talking to me. He was drunk. Within 5 minutes, he'd told me his life story: his ex wife, where they got married, his 2 beautiful daughters whom he hadn't seen in years, their names, their ages, his sexuality, his boyfriend. He'd even been a martial arts practitioner for 20 years. His eyes were so sad. Deeply. He'd tried committing suicide before by jumping off a bridge. He said he needed help which was why he’d come to the hospital.

I can't remember what I said to him. I didn't say much. I listened.

Who knows if he was telling the truth; he could have been a pathological liar or schizophrenic. But what I saw in his eyes was no lie.

The doctor called out his name.

I happened to be in the cubicle next to him. The doctor asked him how he was: his reply was he planned on committing suicide by Xmas and that he felt like killing himself and everyone around him.

I hope the doctor listened. Really listened.


On the Channel 4 docufilm, a shot of the Golden Gate Bridge was shown from afar and it looked really beautiful. It must be quite high 'cos I could see a rainbow beneath it. I also saw the glow of the sunlight and greenery on the landscape. I remember seeing the bridge from that angle and wishing I could tell the guy with the long dark hair: come, come see.